Hot Chocolate, Hugs, and Hand Grenades
by emgem2000
Summary: Violet is ill and Quigley makes everything better. Unashamed sick!fic. Spoiler: doesn't actually have anything whatsoever to do with hand grenades.


**For Tabs - even though you're better now so pointless fic is pointless. Still. Written when I was feeling lonely and poorly I know it's fluffy and odd but it made me feel better. =)**

* * *

Violet is shattered. She yawns widely, then blows her nose on her handkerchief. The set of snivels which has been working its way around headquarters isn't helping much either. Still, she doesn't regret the time she had spent talking to Isadora in the early hours of the morning. It had been a long time since shed been able to have a proper talk with her friend, and Violet had almost forgotten how much she enjoyed the other girl's company. However, that was neither here nor there right now, when she was supposed to be concentrating. The rest of the morning passes in much the same fashion: the need to focus clashing with the sleepy daydreaming. At lunch, she feels Quigley's eyes on her. She tries to hide another yawn, but she doubts she's fooled him. He appears behind her shortly after they've been set their assignments for the afternoon.

"Vi, you look awful." He tells her. She can barely work up the energy to roll her eyes at him.

"Thanks," she mutters.

"No, really, Vi. You look like you should be in bed, asleep."

She offers him a small, tired smile. "No, I have to get this done." It sounds like a daunting task, and she's not entirely sure how she'll do it, but she'll manage. She has to.

"Go back to bed, Vi. I'll sort this out."

"No, Quigley. You have your own to do. I'll be fine." She turns a page, reaching for her pen.

"Violet." Something in his voice makes her look back up at him. "You're not well. You cant work your best like this, and we need your best. Let me take care of this, okay? You go to bed, get some rest, and you can check this over later. It'll be okay, I promise."

She gives in. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He covers her hand with his and squeezes gently. "Everything will be fine. Now go get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Quig."

* * *

She's asleep almost as soon as she lies down. Her peace lasts for a long time, until at least a quiet knock on the door stirs her. Quigley enters, a steaming mug in his hand. "I came to see if you were feeling any better." He tells her as she sits up groggily. "And I brought you some of Sunny's hot chocolate." She's just about aware enough to return his gentle smile with thanks. He hands her the mug, and the warmth of her first sip begins to bring her round to proper awareness.

"So, are you feeling any better?"

"I guess." She mumbles, but as she sets her mug down she's betrayed by a sneeze. She buries her head in her hands. "I'm sorry, Quig. I'm useless at the moment! I'm just so tired, and I'm not working well, and I've barely seen Klaus and Sunny, let alone Beatrice, and-" She breaks off, mainly because he's put a finger to her lips. He's sat down next to her on the bed, and now he puts his arm around her.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. Shh, shh. No one expects you to work when you're ill, Vi. They understand. They just want you to get better." Her only reply is a sigh. He wraps his other arm around her, and holds her tight. Some time passes before either of them move. Finally though, common sense kicks in, and Violet draws away.

"You should go, Quig. I don't want you to get this too." The sneeze she had been fighting whilst in his arms chooses to make itself known again. "Bless you." He whispers. She sneezes again, then blows her nose. Her weary eyes meet his again. "Seriously. You don't want this, and we cant afford to have both of us out of action."

"I think it's probably too late to quarantine me now. But just in case..." And he kisses her, gently, once on the mouth, and once on the tip of her nose. "There. Now I'll have to stay until you're feeling better."

She can't help but giggle, though her eyes are still tired. "Oh, Quig." She trails off, not knowing what to say.

"Hush now. I'm staying til you're sound asleep, and that's the end of it."

* * *

He waits outside while she changes into her pyjamas. She is already under the covers when he re-enters, and once again he moves to sit beside her on the bed. "Get some sleep, okay. You don't need to worry about a thing." She takes his hand with a sleepy smile.

Just as promised,he stays until her breathing is deep and even. Then, quiet as a thief, he slips out. Just before the doorway, however, he stops to turn back, looking over her one last time.

_Sleep well, Violet Baudelaire._ And then the door swings shut after him.

* * *

**I realise there was nothing to do with hand grenades, as the title may have implied, but I couldn't think of another 'h' word that fit...**

**~ Em**


End file.
